


Bridges That Fall

by jusrecht



Category: Code Geass
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-06
Updated: 2008-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As time brought them closer, it also set many trials.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridges That Fall

  
On the day of his arrival at the Weinberg estate – one of _many_ , a voice in his head stated matter-of-factly – Suzaku was overwhelmed by the silence.   
  
It was a jarring experience, and nothing about it made any sense because to associate Gino with silence was an idea which so completely defied logic that he found himself reevaluating every minute he had spent in the other knight’s company. They had been so far removed from the definition of the word, even stumbling into the ‘riotous’ category repeatedly with alarming consistency that to put it in the same sentence with Gino was, in short, a crime.   
  
And yet he nodded at him, smiling, and said that this was indeed the place where he had grown up.   
  
Suzaku only managed a noncommittal hum after a long period of blank nothing. He hardly resisted when Gino grasped his wrist and proceeded to drag him around for a tour.  
  
It lasted well over an hour. They kept away from the mansion and roamed the garden, and then the grassy field and lush forest bordering the estate. Most of the surrounding land, Gino told him with a smile which somehow seemed faraway, belonged to the family as well. The air was cool and fresh, almost cold, but it was an indulgence to a soldier who had been far too used to spending much of his time inside a narrow cockpit. His eyes feasted on the parade of colours, tempered into tranquillity by the overcast sky, and for once, he did not wish for sunshine. It would mar instead of enhance the beauty, at least for today.  
  
When they finally returned, it was to a sumptuous dinner for two. The greetings from the staff to the young master of the house was reserved, impersonal, but Gino grinned at them, addressing one or two he had known since childhood, and Suzaku watched as the ice started to thaw. It never ceased to amaze him, how easily the other knight worked his magic with people, and how immediately they fell for him. Suzaku was careful not to show the swelling affection in his chest, but Gino noticed his silent observation and flashed him a grin, so bright that it clashed spectacularly with their mellow surrounding – and he once more was struck by how mismatched everything was.  
  
But he put no further deliberation on the notion, because when Gino kissed him goodnight in front of his door – and then, of course, persuasively pushed him inside – there was no room for any other thought inside his head.  
  
\-----  
  
On the second day of his stay, it all began to make sense.  
  
Not so much at first. The sun, sickly white, made a reluctant appearance until noon, and then went into hiding behind thick clouds and a curtain of light drizzle, making the day frown in an eerie grey mist. Gino was profuse in his complaints on the weather – there was so much he wanted to show him and they were all _outside_ – but quickly shut up when Suzaku tackled him down and kissed him full on the mouth. They spent the rest of the day in bed, lazily tracing their fingers on each other and listening to soft, sometimes erratic breathings and murmured whispers as they filled the room, lulled by the sound of the rain.  
  
It was nearly four when he finally left the bed – Gino had lapsed into a deep slumber next to him and Suzaku took care to make as little sound as possible. His muscles felt sluggish after hours of lying down as he threw on his shirt and padded across the room. It was enveloped in a shadowy half-light, the floor cold under his bare feet, but not uncomfortably so. He paused in front of the window, looking at the sprawling landscape, green and silent as painting, the air slightly hazed with mist. He was reminded to a rainy day in the old Kururugi Shrine from a long time ago, the utter tranquillity of everything as he sat on wooden platform with his small feet dangling just a little above the damp earth, the smell of wet soil in his nose.  
  
There was something about this place which swung open doors of memories. It was a corner of the earth that time forgot, with ranks of grey clouds which gathered above and never left, with the cold, chilling wind which stirred treetops and swayed branches like a never-ending round of dance. It was a place which made one sit down and reflect.  
  
“Suzaku?”  
  
He turned around, catching the frantic note in Gino’s sleep-roughened voice, and slipped on a smile to cover his surprise. “I was watching the rain,” he began, but quickly stopped when he noticed the look on his lover’s face as he stumbled out of the bed, still completely nude. The arms that abruptly wrapped around his body were stiff, as rigid as a pair of massive clamps.  
  
Suzaku struggled in the embrace, it choking the air out of his lungs. “Gino…”  
  
“You are,” the taller knight muttered, face pressed to the top of his head, “…the only thing real enough…”  
  
The rest trailed away, swallowed by the steady drumming of the rain. Suzaku didn’t dare to move, fearing for what he couldn’t exactly say, but it felt like something was teetering at an edge, like a taut string threatening to snap with the slightest provocation. He let Gino hold him and never asked about the tight embrace, or how it was much too crowded with need to be anything but desperate.  
  
The rain never ceased.  
  
\-----  
  
“Picnic is fun.”  
  
“I suppose,” Suzaku murmured absently, his eyes closed in a spell of contentment. They were sitting in the small porch at the back of the house and Gino’s body was warm against his back, lips gentle and comforting on the sensitive skin of his neck.  
  
“We can bring a picnic basket and a pair of binoculars for bird-sighting,” the other continued, fingers skimming the inside of his hand lightly. “Or deer-sighting – whatever you want. We also have to bring that chequered cloth for us to sit on the grass, just like in the old storybooks.”  
  
He lifted his eyelids halfway, eyeing the pale ashen sky sceptically. “Are you sure it’s not going to rain?”  
  
“What are you, a girl?”  
  
Suzaku elbowed the stomach pressed against his lower back, earning himself a light chuckle that rumbled along his spine and a closer embrace. They had spent a surprisingly fine morning outside, on horseback, riding across the country and boldly bracing the biting wind. A more dismal mood had only started to set in a little after noon, but Gino, as it was quickly becoming evident, refused to be discouraged from his outdoor plans.  
  
“There’s this cave I want to show you,” he was still speaking excitedly. “I liked going there when I was a child. It’s not that big, but there are bats inside. Real bats. Don’t you want to see real bats?”  
  
Suzaku succumbed to the laughter bubbling up his throat, and couldn’t help a flash of genuine smile on the curve of his lips when the other kissed him, face lit with a grin. He could feel himself slowly and surely giving in – like he always did every time his lover decided to sway him into something.  
  
“Real bats?”  
  
“Real bats,” Gino nodded solemnly.  
  
“And that picnic basket?”  
  
The grin widened a notch. “I’ll ask Maria right now.” Gino released him at once and manoeuvre around his body to stand up, quickly going on his way to flatter the cook into providing them with a picnic basket appropriately laden with food. Suzaku was left wondering to himself if there would come a day, far away beyond the borders of the undefined future, when he finally would stop following his lover's many whims.  
  
Secretly, he wished that day did not exist – or if it had to, the distance between now and then should be as far and wide as it could be that he had to travel a long time before he could even see it coming. He thought of Gino, only yesterday he had told him, in a small voice which had spoken volumes of the boy who had grown up alone in this lonely little dell, about the dreams he had kept between the curtains of silence and little sunshine. There had been books, story books with their brightly coloured pictures and many letters which spelled stories beyond his knowledge. And then there were the tutors, four of them in total, and Suzaku listened silently as Gino described the one he remembered the most, a forty-year-old man who had used to be a noble himself before his family had been stripped off power. It was this man whence he had learnt about the existence of Knight of Rounds – and yes, Gino had admitted with an unabashed laugh, it had taken him only a matter of few minutes to be engrossed with the concept of being one.  
  
His days had been simple. A morning of study, followed by an afternoon of adventures in the forest, and then a night of stargazing if the clouds deigned to relent. Variations had been scarce if at all, but then again he had known almost nothing but the monotony of days slinking past as silently as the mute, pallid sun above his head to yearn for anything other than that.   
  
Once, he had paused in his story, and then said – plainly – _I’m not my mother’s son._  
  
Suzaku’s heart had clenched, but Gino’s face remained expressionless as he continued. What had happened, what had made him what he was now, one of the best knights in the empire, was a trip his favourite tutor had taken him on. It had been to learn more about history and art, comprised of visits to various museums and great sites of historical importance. The crowd, the colours, the force of living as opposed to simply existing flung his eyes open. He had, Gino whispered to the crook of his neck, fallen in love with life.   
  
Wherever his lover’s old tutor was right now, Suzaku truly wished him the greatest joy possible in the world.  
  
The sound of footsteps pulled him back to the present and he looked up, but it wasn’t Gino’s face that greeted him from the doorway. The resemblance, however, caught him off-guard and he stared at the blond man – very tall, perhaps as tall as…  
  
And then he realised who _this_ was.   
  
Suzaku jumped to his feet, mouth dry as the realisation caught up with him. The expression of astonishment on Lord Weinberg’s face had given way into recognition, followed by a surge of unreserved disgust so apparent that Suzaku had to force himself to open his mouth. But before he could begin to say anything, Gino’s exuberant voice echoed from inside the mansion.  
  
“Suzaku, Maria said–”  
  
The other knight froze on his way across the parlour, his half-springing step ending abruptly. Suzaku could see his muscles tensing at the sight of the older man, mouth opening slightly in shock, no trace of any former cheerfulness on his face.  
  
“Father,” he said at last, bowing his head slightly in respect.  
  
Lord Weinberg made no sign to acknowledge his fourth son and merely turned around to walk into the house. It was then when Suzaku noticed a beautiful young woman with long auburn hair, perhaps the same age as him, standing mutely just behind the older man. She looked uncomfortable, almost frightened, and she flinched when Lord Weinberg suddenly spoke.  
  
“Get that vermin out of my house.”  
  
Suzaku went rigid and saw, clearly, how fury overcame his lover’s surprise. “Father!”  
  
“You can bring your whores somewhere else, but not into my house,” the older man continued in his aloof tone, playing ignorant to his son’s anger. The words yanked Suzaku out of his stupor, and he knew that he must act before Gino committed a mistake which he would forever regret and could never repair.  
  
“I will leave at once,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice as stony as ice. “I apologise for intruding, Lord Weinberg.”  
  
“Wait!” Gino grasped for his right arm but he shrugged it off and strode toward the stairs. “Suzaku!”  
  
He ignored it, his ears buzzing, and quickly made for his room. The anger that lapped at the edges of his mind was cold and brutal, leaving his body numb instead of burning with it. He was dimly aware of the shouted argument as father and son traded harsh words, but it hardly made any sense to him as he went through the task of collecting his things and cramming them into his rucksack with a determined, almost vengeful air. His anger died down after a while, but the cold disappointment remained, like the prickling of an old wound.   
  
The insult was by no means unfamiliar to him, but it had been a long time since he had stood at the receiving end of one. His Knight of Rounds status had greatly helped, but apparently it was not enough. Of course it wasn't. Suzaku berated himself for ever thinking that it was.  
  
He heard the sound coming from the door but made no effort to turn around and see who it was. The heavy footsteps invading his room – the guestroom, he reminded himself, for clearly he was a guest, an unwelcome one, and about to be thrown out of the house – were slow and unsure, and the even more pitiful echoes of the sound settled a heavy lump in his stomach. Suzaku sighed, feeling himself relenting, and whirled around to face the other knight.  
  
A torrent of words immediately greeted him. “Suzaku, I’m really sorry for what–”  
  
“Gino, please,” he interrupted, one hand raised for more effect. “It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
A bitter expression twisted his lover’s face. “Yeah, except for the part where he’s my father.”  
  
Suzaku shrugged and said, as casually as possible, “I don’t care.”   
  
But he did, with all the resentment still rippling under his skin, and he knew that Gino could see through his lie. The taller knight snorted, clearly expressing his disbelief. “You don’t care that my father called you a vermin and a whore?”  
  
“I don’t care,” he repeated stubbornly and stepped forward to cup Gino’s face with both hands. “It wasn’t your fault, do you hear me?”  
  
He hadn’t expected his lover to jerk away, recoiling from his touch as if it was something repulsive. “Don’t,” he hissed, eyes dark with poorly suppressed fury. “I don’t want your pity.”  
  
Suzaku withdrew his hands, smothering the hurt which had suddenly bloomed in his chest. “Why not?” he retorted, his voice challenging. “It was pity, wasn’t it, which first made you talk to me?”  
  
“That was different,” Gino snapped at him – and realised it too. Guilt was fast to surface on his face, an ugly shadow that caught him off guard and made him clench his fists as he opened his mouth and tried to deliver apologies which never made it past his lips. For one terrible moment, Suzaku thought that this would put an end to them, but he steeled himself and turned around.  
  
“Okay,” he replied flatly and reached for his rucksack to finish packing. The silence was heavy, a crushing weight against thousands of the unspoken between them, but Gino did nothing and Suzaku let it continue, until he felt them both drifting even more far apart and he found himself grasping at the last thread before it could snap.  
  
“It’s not pity,” he blurted out, turning around so quickly the he lost his balance onto the bed. Suzaku felt his fingers curling around the edges of the sheets and his voice was quivering slightly when he tried to speak again. “I don’t– what we have, it’s not pity, and if you think this can–”  
  
The weight of Gino’s body overwhelmed him as the other knight pushed him flat onto the bed, arms winding tightly around his body. Suzaku felt him press his face into the warmth of his neck, and almost gasped when little tremors suddenly shook his lover’s body.   
  
He was not the problem, Suzaku realised, or at least not the only one. Lord Weinberg did so much more than just insulting him, with his callousness, with his utter indifference to his son, who shone and absorbed life like paper on water, who had been pretending that he had put enough years between now and then to forget the loneliness of growing. But it took more than years to outgrow anything like that and it was evident in the way his body trembled slightly, quietly in the circle of Suzaku’s arms, that he had not forgotten.  
  
There was nothing he could do – he who no longer had a father, to Gino who still had one and yet didn’t – and so he held him, silently, waiting until the soundless sobs had eased into a quiet, weary stillness. He could feel his body growing numb, but to show even the slightest discomfort but not an option for him, not while the tension was still evident in his lover’s body.  
  
“What did I do to deserve you?” Gino’s voice was small, muffled, but it no longer held the bitter edge which had threatened to rip their relationship apart.   
  
“You talked to me,” Suzaku answered quietly. He still remembered, very clearly, the easy camaraderie which Gino had offered him those many months ago, completely without pretence or any string attached and so unlike everything that Britannia was. This, he thought, was just a small repayment for what the other knight had done for him.  
  
“And kissed you,” Gino said, a hint of his usual playful self recognisable in the unravelling grimness wrapped around his voice.   
  
Suzaku felt the slow smile growing at the corners of his lips. “And that.”  
  
“And tried to molest you.”  
  
He laughed then, and saw the pleasure in his lover’s eyes at the sound of his laughter as their gaze met. Gino shifted upward to place a chaste kiss on his lips, his weight solid and comforting on top of him, and ran one hand suggestively down his thigh.  
  
“And you allowed me,” he said cheekily, eyes shining with warmth which had never failed to bring a smile to Suzaku’s face.  
  
“Only after your some-thousandth try.”  
  
A small pout appeared on his lover’s face, but the playfulness was just as quick to wither. Suzaku watched warily as the grin slowly disappeared from Gino’s face, replaced by anxious discomfort, stark against the lightness of seconds ago.  
  
“I don’t…” he paused, fumbling with words and mortification. “You’re not my… what he said before–”  
  
“I know,” Suzaku said firmly, resting his left hand on the back of Gino’s neck. It was a strange confidence, especially coming from him, but he _knew_ , just as he knew the sun would always rise from the east every day, that he meant so much more than that to the other knight.  
  
Gino offered him a weak, little smile. “Sometimes I’m afraid,” his voice was thin, painted in twenty shades of uncertainty, as was the subdued colour of his eyes. “You can break my heart so very easily, you know. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers, the sound loud and sharp in the quiet nothing around them.  
  
“Yes,” Suzaku nodded, solemn, and looked away as he prepared himself for what he was about to say. “But it goes the other way around too, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”  
  
He could feel the warmth on his cheeks – and the grin rapidly developing on Gino’s face, even without him seeing it. “Really?” the question was soft – and perhaps wasn’t exactly one because truth had never been clearer for them both. Besides, he was a bad liar.   
  
He still said nothing when the grin gained a mischievous hint and Gino leant down to kiss him, not gentle but with heavy undercurrents of passion which made him struggle slightly for air – and Suzaku thought that he _did_ have the power to break Gino’s heart.   
  
But he knew that he also had the power to protect it.  
  
 ** _  
End_**  
  



End file.
